This is the season to celebrate your favorite things. Well, I found out today that I have a new UNFAVORITE thing.
My teenager told me she needs new underwear for Christmas. Thongs, she requested. You know, those tiny, torturous, sling-shot-things that now pass as underwear. I am quite convinced they were invented by a man because they are very sexy, yes, but so darn uncomfortable. You may as well walk around with a piece of toilet paper stuck in your rear, because that's how it feels. I don't think God meant for anything to go in that cavernous space, so for me, thongs are downright unnatural.
But . . . just about every young girl wears them. So, the aim-to-please-Santa that I am, I went thong-shopping today for my teenager at PINK, the sister store to Victoria's Secret aimed at the 16- to 25-year-old set. And I discovered that the only thing worse than shopping for bras and panties for myself, is shopping for these unmentionables for my teenage daughter.
It took me 45 minutes to pick out five pairs of thongs that kinda-sorta passed the mom test, ones that didn't send the message that I would like to see my daughter wearing these on a stripper pole real soon. I bought one with a cupcake on it, and one that resembled the one in the picture above. Still sort of "sweet," without being skanky.
It's a fine line between mothering and pimping to buy your daughter's thongs. Believe me, this is one outfit I don't expect her to model for me on Christmas morning.
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2 comments:
Oh, how I laughed when I read this post!
Being a person who likes (nay revels in) seeing others in uncomfortable situations, I would have taken her to the store with me. I would have made sure to say many disapproving dad things like "Good God, are we shopping for panties or floss?"
And just as a topper, I would have made sure to flirt with he half-my-age counter attendant. It would have been even better if it was a gay man, because I like my entertainment unexpected and at the expense of others.
It would have been the most fun I had since taking my then 13-year-old to the grocery store, and yelling across two aisles, "MORGAN! Do you need girl supplies!?"
I LOVE being the father of teens!
Jouda,
You're a sick-o! And I mean that in the nicest way.
I've already gotten "The Lecture" from my teenager about embarrassing her in public, so I don't think the antics you have suggested would fly AT ALL.
Let me see if I remember "The Lecture" correctly: I'm not allowed to sing in the car if her friends are with us, dance, laugh too loudly, talk too loudly, listen to talk radio, put my arm around her, call her "Honey," show any cleavage, wear my favorite ratty sweats in public, argue with salesclerks, say anything remotely controversial and certainly not bring up politics with complete strangers. In other words, with the exception of being permitted to breathe and drive her places, I am pretty much on parental lock-down.
If you're getting away with all this other FUNNY crap you talk about, can we trade places?
But there is one thing she lets me do that she would KILL me for telling you . . . she still calls me into her room at night to tuck her in.
On second thought, I think I'll keep this job a little bit longer.
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